The Hunt

Title: The Hunt
Author: ExcentrykeMuse
Fandoms: Downton Abbey / Pride & Prejudice / Twilight Saga
Pairings: Bella/Owestry, (slight), Lady Mary/Kemal Pamuk, (slight) Darcy/Elizabeth, Darcy/Lady Mary
Word Count: 6k
Rating: PG13
Warnings: time travel, adoption, character death (canon), affairs, illegitimate children, classism, Darcy is a snob, Elizabeth is a commoner (sorry, not sorry), Lady Mary wants a title, love at first sight
Summary: Bella is the ward of the Earl of Grantham.  She hadn’t been expecting to meet the Viscount of Owestry on the hunt…

I.

Bella was not riding.  Grantham had encouraged her to, her horse was in the stable, but Mary was making a fool of herself with a Johnny foreigner.  She had been snubbing Matthew Crawley, the new heir, and now was claiming that Viscount Napier was her knight in shining armor or, to be more specific, her Perseus.

Milling about in the drawing room, Bella was nonetheless in her riding habit, her hair in looping braids around her ears, her riding hat discarded on a sofa.

“Have I missed them?”  A thin looking man with wisping blond hair strode in, putting on his gloves and looking about him.  “Oh, good, you’re still here.”

Bella glanced up and caught the man’s watery eyes.  “Oh, they’re all—”  Her voice caught in her throat.

There was nothing striking about this man.  He was actually an inch shorter than Bella, he seemed too thin for his riding costume, and he had rather weak shoulders.  However, Bella was rather struck.  She hadn’t been struck or, indeed, noticed much of anything apart from Mary’s absurd matrimonial machinations since Bella’s adopted father had drowned on the Titanic.  James Crawley had left Bella behind at the last moment, saving her from a watery fate.

“Good God,” the man breathed, stepping hesitantly closer.  He seemed to be likewise lost for words.

The pair just stood there, on opposite sides of the drawing room, gazing into each other’s eyes, lost in each other’s gazes.

After an indeterminate amount of time, Grantham walked in, interrupting them.  “Owestry!” he called.

The moment was lost and the man, Owestry seemed to be his title, looked up, quite shocked.

“Come, you’re going to miss the riding!”  Grantham looked into the room.  “Ah, Isabella.  Has your horse been called for you?  Come! You must ride!  None of this moping about.  You’re wearing black instead of riding pink.  You are still in appropriate mourning.  Come, girl!”

“I had not thought—”  Bella murmured, her eyes catching on Owestry again, who was equally glancing back at her.

“Come, Lady Isabella,” Owestry urged.  “I will ride with you.”

“Excellent, excellent!” Grantham enthused, striding out of the room.  “Come along, both of you!”

Bella blushed, the color suffusing her cheeks, down past her chin, into her neck.  Hesitantly picking up her riding hat, she stepped forward and murmured, “I’m afraid I am only ‘Miss Crawley,’” she apologized.  “I’m Lord Grantham’s cousin and ward.”

“A ‘lady’ surely to the world, if not in title,” Owestry complimented, placing his hand at the small of her back as he led her out of the door.  “Come, let us find your horse, Miss Crawley.  We can take up the back if you are not in the mood for hunting.”

Bella blushed a little more at this.  Glancing up at him, she asked, “Are you a friend of Lord Grantham’s?”

“My estate is in Derbyshire, but I found myself in the neighborhood.”

They were now coming outside and Bella looked around.

She saw Mary up atop her horse, smiling at one man and ignoring the other.

A groom was leading over her horse, a slim white mare with a dappled hindquarter named “Arizona.”  Although James Crawley had always contended that he found Bella asleep under a lamppost in York when she was only seven years old, Bella remembered having wandered out of her house in Phoenix with the milk money as Renee had forgotten to pay the electric bill and the milk had gone bad.  She had wandered the streets of a strange city until she had fallen asleep under a lamp lit by fire, which was where James had found her.  Bella had soon learnt when he had taken her home that everyone talked funny and the year was 1902 instead of 1994 but had kept her peace.  Now she was a young lady of consequence in 1913 Yorkshire with a dowry and a pedigree.

Owestry moved in behind her and Bella glanced over her shoulder.

“Allow me to help you mount, Miss Crawley,” he murmured into her ear.

“There is no Lady Owestry, I take it,” Bella whispered back with a question more suited to Mary than to her, but a shiver had run down her spine when he had moved so closely to her.

Owestry breathed out onto her neck and Bella had to control herself.  “I am a widower,” he admitted.  Then his arms came around her waist and Bella, gripping the saddle, allowed him to lift her up.  Settling herself atop her horse, she looked about her and then glanced down.

“Thank you, Lord Owestry.”

His watery blue eyes looked into hers.  “All my friends call me ‘Owestry,’” he told her plainly.

“Owestry, then,” she agreed.

He beckoned over a stable hand, who was leading over his horse, a medium sized animal which was suited to his slim figure.  He hoisted himself into the saddle without any assistance, betraying the natural strength in his thin arms, and Bella took him in admiringly.

“Do you live here at Downton?” he asked her after he slipped his feet into the stirrups.

“Yes,” she agreed.  “Until I am twenty-one or married.  The house in York is shut up.”

“Have you debuted, Miss Crawley?”

Bella knew what he was asking her.  He was asking if she was out and of marriageable age.

“The third cousin of an Earl is not presented to their majesties,” she told him plainly, setting herself quite below him socially.  She was a gentleman’s daughter, but an inconsequential gentleman.  James Crawley may have been Lord Grantham’s heir presumptive, but he could have been displaced if Aunt Cora had given birth to the long awaited son.  He was only a second cousin.

She paused and looked away, a little shy.  “Aunt Cora did have a birthday celebration for me when I turned eighteen last October.  There was dancing.  I’m afraid I’m quite clumsy and stepped on several of my partners’ toes.”

“I can hardly believe that of you, Miss Crawley,” Owestry assured her.

She dared to look over at him.  He was staring resolutely back.  Bella could feel her cheeks flush, but she didn’t glance away.  “You have not danced with me,” she reminded him.

“Only because I have not had the opportunity.  I take it Lady Grantham has not planned dancing as part of our festivities.”

“I am afraid not,” Bella agreed, “though she should dearly like to see Lady Mary dance.”

It was then that the horn sounded, and all the riders turned in their saddles.  The dogs began barking and the hunting began.

Bella and Owestry hung back but took off at a reasonable trot after the rest of them.

When they entered the forest, Bella lost her hat on a tree branch, but didn’t circle back for it.  She was very well aware of Owestry staying close to her and dared to take glances at him.  When it was well past lunch time and they had lost sight of all the other riders, she circled round and looked at him.

“Shall we give it up for lost?” she inquired.

“I daresay we might,” he agreed.  “Are there any parts of the estate you should like to ride or should you like to go back to the Abbey?”

“Are there any parts you should like to see?” Bella turned it back onto him.

“I should like to see any parts you should wish to show me.”

Well, that was an answer, wasn’t it?

They slowly made their way back.  Bella took him back by way of the Dower House, but they didn’t call on Great-Aunt Violet.

“My father is the Earl of Matlock,” Owestry was now saying.  “I have a younger brother, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, and a younger sister, Lady Julia.  She is a little older than you are.”

“Is she married?” Bella inquired.

“No,” Owestry told her.  “I am the only one who married and only on my father’s instruction.”

Bella nodded.  “He wanted an heir.”

“He still wants an heir,” Owestry admitted, looking down at the reins.  “I only have a daughter.  I have been resisting him, though I do attend the Season at his behest.”

“The new heir has come to Downton,” Bella now told him.  “Everyone thinks it would be best if Lady Mary were to marry him.”  She now looked away.  “It is strange to watch since she was engaged to my brother for the very same reason.”

“I can imagine,” Owestry sympathized.  “Do you find it difficult to be at Downton?”

Bella considered.  “I hadn’t really thought about it.  I feel a little—”  She paused.  “It’s been months but it doesn’t seem real.”

Owestry hesitated.  “I was—glad when Sophie was gone.”

Bella looked up and waited for him to explain.

“We were not suited.  She was a Duke’s daughter and it was advantageous.  I only know Annabelle’s mine because she looks the quintessential Matlock.”

Bella was at a loss.  She wasn’t exactly certain how to respond.  Renee and Charlie had been split up since she was a small child and Sarah Crawley—James Crawley’s wife—had been dead long before he had found Bella on the streets of York.

Hesitating, she tried, “Mama died before I could remember her.”

“You are well and truly alone then.”

“Yes,” Bella agreed.  “The Crawleys try to be kind.”

They were now coming up the drive and it seemed the hunting party was beginning to reassemble back at the house.

Changing the subject, Bella remarked, “They seem to be back.”

“They do.  We shall have to be sociable.”  He glanced at her with a silly grin on his face.  Bella found it charming.

“No one finds me sociable,” she assured him.  “I’m still in full mourning.  If you stick with me, no one will approach you.”

“I was planning to ‘stick with you’ anyway, Miss Crawley,” he assured her.  “I had hoped that was apparent.”

Biting her lip, Bella smiled to herself but didn’t answer.

Their horses were taken from them and Owestry helped Bella out of the saddle.  They came into the entryway and went their separate ways in the gallery, each to be undressed by their respected servants.

Bella had a ladies’ maid.  She knew Mary was secretly jealous as she had to share a house maid with her two younger sisters.  However, Bella had a ladies’ maid all her own who was under strict instructions not to help any of the Crawley sisters.  Bella paid her wages out of her inheritance so Charlotte was not a Downton servant.

“Carrie,” Bella instructed as her hair was taken down from its braids, “I want you to find out everything you can about the Viscount of Owestry.  His title, his home, Matlock, his brother, his sister, his father—everything.  He’s a widower.  He has a little girl.  Annabelle.”

“Oh dear,” Charlotte murmured.  “Has Lady Mary set her cap at him?  I had thought she wanted Evelyn Napier.  You had been so sure.”

Bella caught Charlotte’s eyes in the reflection.  “I want Owestry,” she told her maid.  “Not a word.  The last thing we need is Mary’s maid finding out and telling her.”

Charlotte’s brown eyes lit up in excitement but she didn’t comment.  “Shall we be wanting the diamonds then, mum?”

Bella paused.  “You don’t think the pearls?  The diamonds are a little heavy handed.”

“We want you to look your best.”  Charlotte ran a brush through Bella’s thick hair.

Considering, Bella thought on the matter.  “No, the pearls.  We shall save the diamonds for the last night of the party.  Better not play my hand too early.”

“Very well, mum,” Charlotte agreed, curtseying.

Bella stood so she could be helped out of her riding suit.  She would need a quick bath to get the stink of horse off of her.  Perhaps she would sprinkle a little perfume behind her ears.  She wondered who her dinner partner would be.  There was no hope it would be Owestry.  Lady Grantham did not have the gift of foresight.

Dressed in black silks, Bella went down to the drawing room, but she heard a rustling behind the stairs.  Going to investigate, she was surprised to find Mary tangled with the foreign gentleman.

She stared.

“Isabella!” Mary greeted, trying for nonchalance.  “I did not see you on the hunt.”

Bella glanced at the man who was quite close to Mary.  “—I was in the back.  Are you not going to introduce me?”

Mary looked decidedly uncomfortable.  “Isabella, this is Mr. Pamuk.—My cousin, Isabella Crawley.”

Pamuk nodded graciously in her direction. 

“How do you do, Mr. Pamuk?” Bella greeted.  “I’m afraid I need Lady Mary.  If you will excuse us.”  She grasped Mary’s wrist and pulled her firmly away from the foreign gentleman in the general direction of the ballroom.  “What are you doing?” she whispered.

“He was suddenly present,” Mary tried to explain.  “It caught me quite off guard.”

Bella glanced at her.  “Not a year ago you were engaged to my brother.  Think on that.”  She dropped Mary’s wrist as if burnt.

They walked into the drawing room together and Bella looked around with her eyes, trying to spy Owestry.

Mary swept past her into the room, ever the social butterfly, but Bella didn’t really mind.

Owestry spied her from where he was lingering near the windows and approached her.  A small smile spread on Bella’s face and she moved toward him, glad to have someone to talk to instead of moving awkwardly into a corner.

She noticed Grantham clock them, but she paid it no notice.

He was her guardian.  He would have had to find out eventually.

“You and Lady Mary look quite like sisters,” Owestry complimented.  They were both tall with alabaster skin, delicate features, and dark hair.  The irony was that Bella and Mary were not remotely related. 

“We do, don’t we?” Bella agreed.  “I quite resemble Lady Sybil as well.”

“But not Lady Edith?” Owestry questioned.

“She has the Crawley hair and eyes,” Bella answered.  “She looks quite like my father and brother did.”

“So interesting, family genetics,” Owestry commented, clearly thinking.  “They can reveal a myriad of sins.”

Bella glanced up at him, wondering if he was thinking about his own daughter.  She hummed.  “You’ve noticed I look like Lady Grantham then,” she murmured.

He looked up, shocked.

“It’s true,” she agreed.  “I do look like Lady Grantham, who is an American.  It is quite by accident.  Mrs. Sarah Crawley was from an old Yorkshire family with darker hair and darker eyes,” she continued, failing to mention that Sarah Crawley had mousy brown hair and hazel eyes, which did not resemble Bella in the slightest.  “But if you were to ask Lord Grantham, he would tell you that James Crawley found me under a lamppost when I was only seven years old.  I was a gentleman’s daughter, but my mother lost me and we could never find her again.  She was quite flighty.”

Her eyes did not connect to his and she decidedly looked out at the assembled guests.

“Do you remember your name?” Owestry asked her carefully.

“Isabella Marie,” Bella told him.  “Quite the mouthful, don’t you agree?”  She smiled at him sadly.

He smiled back at her.  “Your parents gave you the names of queens.”

“Yes,” she agreed, thinking on it.  “The new heir’s mother is named ‘Isobel.’  It is quite confusing.”

“I can imagine,” Owestry agreed.  “But you were here first.”

“Quite right,” Bella agreed.  “I like the way you think.”

“What do you say,” Owestry suggested, “we go interfere with Lady Grantham’s table?” He smiled winsomely at Bella.

“I think we can sneak out without being noticed,” Bella agreed.  “No one is paying attention to us.”  She carefully took his hand, feeling a shot of electricity up through her arm, and led him around the edges of the room and out of the door toward the dining room.

Several footmen were making finishing touches to the table and Mr. Carson was standing in the corner.

“Carson—” Bella implored.  “Where has Lady Grantham put us?”

She quickly started checking the place cards and pointed for Owestry to go the other way.

“Miss Crawley,” Carson implored, “her ladyship took especial care—”

“I found you!” Owestry cried.  “Have you found me?”

“Not yet,” Bella told him, still searching.  “Oh, here you are, next to Sybil.”  She picked up Sybil’s name and rushed to Owestry, trading cards.  “Sybil won’t mind.  I know she won’t.  I’ll make it up to her later.”

“How old is Lady Sybil?” Owestry asked as he replaced Sybil’s name card where Bella’s had been.

“Miss Crawley, I really must protest—”

“Carson,” Bella begged.  “You were young once.  Wouldn’t you have switched places to sit next to a pretty girl?”

Drawing himself up, Carson made to reply, but Owestry dragged her hand and pulled her back toward the door.  “Come.  Before we’re seen.”

Bella shot Carson an apologetic look before slipping out the door with Owestry back into the drawing room.  They were seen by Grantham who cocked his head at them, but Bella only smiled at him as she slipped back along the wall to a secluded spot.

“Lord Grantham saw us,” she whispered to Owestry, indicating her cousin and guardian.

“I shall speak to him,” Owestry promised, his eyes softening when they landed on her.  “How can I do otherwise when I’m absolutely gone on you?”

Carson, it turned out, did not switch the name cards back. 

Bella was seated beside Owestry and Lady Grantham certainly noticed the new placement.  Mary, who was unhappily seated beside Evelyn Napier, did not.  Mary didn’t even notice when Bella and Owestry were sequestered on a couch together after dinner.

Bella, however, did notice when Grantham took Owestry aside when everyone was retiring for the evening.

She was almost ready for bed when there was a knock on her door, and Charlotte opened it to reveal Lady Grantham.

“Thank you, Carrie,” Bella murmured.  She got up from her vanity and waited from Lady Grantham to enter.  The door closed behind her and her cousin smiled at her.

“I’m sure you’re aware that Lord Owestry has gone to speak with your cousin, Robert.  He was quite taken with you at dinner.”

“I know you noticed we changed the cards,” Bella confessed.  “I hope Sybil didn’t mind.”

“No, of course not,” Lady Grantham assured her, walking toward the bed.  “I doubt she remembers who Lord Owestry is.”  She paused.  “He says he wants to marry you and doesn’t need your dowry.”

Bella blushed.  “We met just this afternoon.”

“He is quite taken you,” Lady Grantham assured her.  “Lord Owestry said he knew as soon as he laid eyes on you.  You know he’s quite a bit older than you and has a daughter.”

“Yes,” Bella agreed.  “He told me.”

“He lived mostly apart from his first wife,” Lady Grantham now told her as they settled on opposite sides of the bed.  “She was in London and he was in Derbyshire.  It was not a happy marriage.  She was quite lovely, of course, but that does not necessarily make for a happy marriage.”

“No,” Bella agreed.  “He told me a little about it.”

Lady Grantham glanced at her hands.  “Are you sure you want this?  We can arrange a longer visit where you can get to know each other.  Robert and I of course approve—”

Bella leaned forward.  “I don’t mean to sound like a silly girl,” she confessed.  “But did you ever just know with Lord Grantham?”

Lady Grantham smiled indulgently at her.  “I did have my moment,” she agreed.  “Was it love at first sight for both you and Lord Owestry?  That’s how he described it to Robert.”

“I thought such things were nonsense,” Bella told her, “until it happened to me.”

“Well,” Lady Grantham told her.  “He will ask you after breakfast.  If you know your answer, I am more than happy to plan your wedding.”

Bella smiled to herself.

Lady Grantham left soon after that.

Bella could hardly sleep that night.  She tossed and turned and thought of Owestry and how handsome he would look in a day suit.  She hoped Annabelle liked her.  She didn’t so much mind about the brother and the sister.  They could be gotten round, but Annabelle was important.

Sometime after one in the morning she heard a rustle in the corridor.  Then she heard it again.

Confused, she got up with a lamp and went to her door to look out.

Coming out of Mary’s room was her cousin—accompanied by Lady Grantham and a housemaid—carrying a very naked Kemal Pamuk.  Bella was so shocked she almost dropped her lamp.

Lady Grantham heard her because she called out: “Isabella, come help!”

“Help?” she whispered, coming out with a shawl clutched around her.  “What’s happening?”

“We must get Mr. Pamuk back to the bachelor’s corridor,” Lady Grantham explained.  “Come, take his leg.”

Bella looked down at his prone figure.  “Has he had a fit?”

“Isabella,” Lady Grantham commanded.  “Don’t ask questions.  You have seen the problem, you are now a witness, come and help!”

Bella quickly set down her lamp and picked up Pamuk’s leg and began to help shift him. 

A dead man—because it didn’t seem like he was simply prone, he had started stiffening—was quite unwieldy and heavy.  The four women shuffled him into the bachelor’s quarter and back into what appeared to be his room.

Lady Grantham and the housemaid carefully dressed him in his nightclothes and they tucked him into bed.

Bella waited at the end of the bed, her mouth in a line.

Why was Pamuk in Mary’s room to begin with?

Lady Grantham came up to her when they were finished and whispered, “I know you have questions and I will answer them.”  She gave Bella a look.  “Now you must be off to bed.  You are receiving a marriage proposal tomorrow and you must look your best.”

“Owestry,” Bella realized in horror.

“He is asleep along this corridor,” Lady Grantham confirmed, “and he must not know any of us are here.”

Bella nodded.

Lady Grantham hurried them all back to the family wing and after seeing Mary back to her room and promising to look in, she walked Bella back to her own chamber. 

“Sleep,” Lady Grantham suggested, “if you can.”

“Mr. Pamuk accosted Mary earlier,” Bella murmured, half to herself.  “I came upon them—”

“You have the right of it,” Lady Grantham assured her.  “He seems to have been taken ill—”

“Ill?”

“Ill,” Lady Grantham assured her.  “Mary is quite well if not a little shaken.”

“Yes,” Bella murmured.  “Of course.”

Strangely, Bella fell immediately asleep after that, exhausted from carrying a man halfway across the Abbey.  Charlotte had to shake her awake the next morning and Bella was barely aware as she was dressed.

“This broach I think, mum,” Charlotte suggested, holding up a cameo.

“No,” Bella decided.  “No ornamentation today.  I know I look a little stark, but I am in mourning for my father and brother.”  She took in her reflection.  She was a pillar of black.  She supposed it could not be helped.

Going into breakfast, she was surprised to see Mary missing from the table.

“Mr. Pamuk passed away in his sleep,” Grantham informed her over her tea, which Owestry fetched for her.  “It has caused quite a shock among the ladies.”

Bella wasn’t quite sure what she should say.  “He seemed quite—young.”

“Yes, quite young,” Grantham agreed.  “It need not concern you and your plans.  I daresay you did not even exchange two words with the man.”

No, she had just carried his body back to the bachelor’s corridor.

She glanced at Owestry and he gave her a small smile. 

“Mr. Napier’s not here,” Bella noticed as she sat at the table.

“He’s gone to accompany the body to London,” Grantham explained.  “Edith and Sybil will be down presently, I daresay.”

Yes, they hadn’t been involved at all.

Owestry led her into the library after breakfast and Bella composed herself.  “Perhaps this is not the time with a death in the house—” he suggested.

“Oh,” she murmured.  “If you think that’s appropriate.  I thought you went back today now that the party must be broken up.”

“I do,” he agreed.  “On the nine o’clock train.”

Bella looked up at the grandfather clock.  It was quarter to eight. 

“Miss Crawley—” 

She looked up.

“Dash it all.”  He got down on one knee.  “I’m afraid I’m woefully unprepared.  I didn’t know we would meet, so I don’t have an engagement ring.  I shall get you something lovely.”

“Owestry—” she breathed.

“Would you—”

“Of course,” she agreed.  “You don’t even need to ask.”

He quickly got to his feet and swept her into his arms.  Her shoulders were nearly as wide as his so it was nearly an awkward fit, but as he pressed his warm lips to hers, she honestly didn’t care.  Owestry stretched his hand up to stroke her hair and she laughed a little into the kiss. 

“What’s so funny, m’dear?” he asked.

“We didn’t know each other this time yesterday!”

“No,” he agreed, pulling back and looking into her eyes.  “No, I suppose we didn’t.”  His hand ran down her neck and rested on her shoulder.  “Isabella,” he whispered.  “What a beautiful name.”

“Bella,” she corrected.  “My brother always called me ‘Bella.’  He said I was beautiful.”

“That you are,” Owestry agreed, leaning in to kiss her one more time.

Grantham was the one who found them, curled nearly into each other on a couch, making plans.  Bella didn’t want a large wedding and Owestry wanted to be married as soon as possible.  Annabelle would surely be bridesmaid and Richard would stand up as best man. 

“I take it we have an engagement to announce?” Grantham asked.

“Oh yes,” Bella agreed.

Owestry stood and shook Grantham’s hand. 

“We shall be married in May,” Bella declared, “if Lady Grantham can manage a wedding in two months.”

“Well,” Grantham declared.  “We shall do our very best.”

Bella walked Owestry out to the motor with Lord and Lady Grantham and waved him away.

“Well,” Lady Grantham declared as the motor disappeared from sight.  “I was half expecting an engagement, but not this one.  You took us all by surprise, Isabella.”

“I think Patrick would like him,” Bella decided.

“Patrick would certainly have approved,” Grantham agreed as they turned to go in.  “To think.  You are the first of the girls to be married.”

Bella smiled to herself.

II.

Darcy stared at the bride.  Owestry said her name was Isabella—Isabella Crawley.  She was an insignificant cousin of the Earl of Grantham.  Owestry was certainly marrying down in the world, but looking at Isabella, Darcy could certainly understand it.

She was a stunning beauty with alabaster skin, red lips, and midnight dark hair with a slim figure that came directly out of a fashion book from Paris.

She was too beautiful for Owestry by half.  Someone must have slipped the girl a sleeping pill.  She was obviously delusional—or marrying Owestry for his title and estates.

Isabella came up to him with a shy smile and took his hand.  “Darcy?” she inquired.  “Do I have that right?” She looked over to Owestry for assistance.  “I understand you have a younger sister.”

“Yes,” Darcy answered, staring at this goddess that Owestry had somehow conned into marrying him.  “She’s with my fiancée.”

“Oh how wonderful!” Isabella suddenly enthused.  “Owestry, why didn’t you tell me Darcy was engaged?”

“I didn’t know,” Owestry admitted.  He was now looking accusingly at Darcy.

No, Darcy hadn’t told him.  He hadn’t told anyone.  He had brought Elizabeth along to meet the family and win over their approval before they could find out she was middle class.  He dreaded what they’d say if they found out.

“She’s just coming now,” Darcy said, looking back toward the motor.

Georgiana was stepping out, shy and withdrawn as always, with Elizabeth nattering on behind her.

Isabella was looking interestedly between them.

“This is Georgiana,” Darcy introduced as his sister came forward, tall and with the Darcy looks of chocolate curls and a wide forehead.  She was hardly pretty but she would hopefully grow into her broad shoulders.  “And this,” he reached for her, “is Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”

Elizabeth smiled wickedly at Isabella as if she had a secret.

Isabella looked between the two girls and instantly took Georgiana’s arm.

“Miss Darcy,” she greeted, “you simply must call me ‘Bella.’  Does everyone call you ‘Georgiana’ or do you have a nickname?”

Owestry shared a knowing look with Darcy, tipped his head at Elizabeth, and then entered the Abbey.

“Where do your people come from, Miss Bennet?” he inquired as they followed Isabella and Georgiana inside.

“Hertfordshire,” she answered.  “Have you ever been?”

“Once or twice,” Owestry agreed, clearly not paying attention.  “Are your people country people?”

“Oh, we live in Meryton.”

Darcy grimaced.  The less said on that subject, the better.

“How long have you been engaged?” Owestry asked him over tea later that afternoon.

Richard had showed up in his uniform and Isabella had clocked that he and Darcy looked like twins.  She was a smooth one.  Nothing was getting past her. 

“Three days,” Darcy admitted, “but I have known Elizabeth close to a year.  Not like you and Isabella.”

“True,” Owestry admitted, “but when I saw her, I knew.”

Darcy had to keep from laughing into his tea.  Any man would see Isabella Crawley and know he wanted her in his bed.  That girl could have any man she crooked her finger at.  Why she chose a milksop like Owestry was anyone’s guess.

Lady Mary had similar looks and knew she was a beauty, but she had nothing on Isabella.  It was no wonder she was already in her twenties and hadn’t had a suitable marriage proposal.

Elizabeth looked over at him with her sky blue eyes.  It was clear she was unhappy.  All the men were ignoring her and the bride was speaking with Richard.

Darcy walked over to Lady Mary.

“Ah,” she greeted.  “You must be one of the cousins.”

“How could you guess?”

“The brother is in uniform,” she told him.  “I understand we are to expect the Duke of Buckingham.”

“Buckingham is Owestry’s cousin through his mother,” Darcy explained.  “He is also Owestry’s brother in law through his first marriage.”

Lady Mary nodded knowledgably.  “I hope the Duke doesn’t think his sister is being replaced.”

“Oh no.  Everyone is happy,” Darcy assured her.  “An heir must be produced.”

Scoffing, Lady Mary took a sip of her tea.  “Our heir is a fourth cousin.”

“An unfortunate circumstance,” Darcy agreed.  He glanced around.

Lady Mary nodded toward a young man with blond hair and blue eyes.  “Mr. Matthew Crawley, formerly of Manchester,” she told him.  “Isabella’s father was the heir before he perished with his son on the Titanic,” she explained.  “It was all most unfortunate.”

This Darcy hadn’t heard.  He regarded Isabella again in a new light.  “I didn’t know.”

“Yes,” Lady Mary agreed.  “Isabella only came out of full mourning last month.  You notice she is wearing silver.  Her wedding dress is dove grey.”

“Is it indeed?”  Darcy took a sip of his tea.

Lady Mary nodded her head.  “Annabelle is also wearing dove grey.  I understand the dress is most appropriate.”

“Elizabeth had to coordinate with Georgiana.”  Darcy frankly didn’t care.

“And who are Elizabeth and Georgiana?” Lady Mary inquired.  “There are so many people here, I can hardly keep track.”

“Miss Elizabeth Bennet is my fiancée,” Darcy explained.  “Georgiana is my younger sister.”

“Pity,” Lady Mary commented, shrugging, “although you are untitled.”

“Should you like Pemberley?” Darcy inquired, genuinely curious.

“The question is whether Miss Bennet should like Pemberley,” Lady Mary informed him, leaning forward.  “Has she seen it?”

“She has.”

“Then we have our answer.”  She smiled at him coolly.

Yes, Lady Mary was a dark beauty and knew her power.  Isabella, however, was the superior woman.  Elizabeth with her honey blonde hair and blue eyes could not compare to either of them.

Darcy ordered Elizabeth’s suitcase repacked and carefully escorted her out of the Abbey to catch the five o’clock train.

“I bought a new dress!” she complained.

“I’m sure you can wear it to Jane’s wedding,” he told her as he opened the motor door for her.  “You’ll look lovely in pink.”  Darcy quite detested the color.

“I told Mama I would be gone—”

“I’ll telegram,” he promised.

“But—”  He shut the door in her face.

The chauffeur looked over his shoulder into the backseat before starting up the motor and driving off.

Darcy stood there with his hands behind his back.

He heard someone come out onto the driveway.

Turning, he saw it was Richard.

“Ah, so you compared her disfavorably to Isabella, I take it.  Or was she annoying Georgiana?”  He looked up with impossibly green eyes.  He was only an inch shorter than Darcy at an impressive height of over six feet three inches.

“Both,” Darcy admitted.

“Is the engagement off?”

“I’ll write to her formally after the wedding.”

“I saw you speaking to Lady Mary.  Your mother was the daughter of an Earl.”

“The thought had occurred to me.”

The natural brothers shared a look. 

“You’ll always be comparing her to Isabella,” Richard pointed out carefully.

“That thought had occurred to me as well.”  He grimaced.

“Perhaps it’s best not to play in the same sandbox as Owestry; nothing good can come of it.  Look what happened to him, marrying his own cousin the first time round.  Brought him nothing but misery.”  Richard took out a pack of cigarettes and then a lighter.  He took a drag and then let out a lung full of smoke.  “Perhaps Buckingham will take a liking to Lady Mary.  He’s getting on in years.”

Darcy looked at him.  “What an irony if he and Owestry should become brothers in law again.”

“Yes,” Richard agreed wryly.  “Sarah was talking about sending him to New York for an American heiress.”

“He needs the injection of cash.”

“He certainly does that,” Richard agreed.

The natural brothers—turned cousins—looked at each other.  Richard smiled wryly and then dashed his cigarette.  Darcy laughed to himself.  What an odd turn the day had taken, and the wedding wasn’t for another two days.

III.

Lady Mary was quite amused that Darcy had sent his little middle class fiancée home within hours of arriving at Downton Abbey.  She knew he found her alluring.  She could see it in his eyes.  However, she wasn’t going to waste her time on a titleless estate. 

As she got dressed for dinner, she smiled to herself in satisfaction.

She quickly got up and went over to Isabella’s room, leaving Edith and Sybil to fend for themselves.

“Are you busy?” she asked, popping her head into Bella’s bedchamber.

Her cousin was sitting at her vanity, dressed in mauve, her maid putting diamond clips in her hair.

“No, not busy,” Bella answered.  She waved away her maid and turned in her chair.  “What is it?”

“Nothing much.  Darcy is a dark horse.”  She came and sat down.

“Terribly wealthy,” Bella confided.  “He would be as wealthy as Owestry, but Owestry has stock options.  Pemberley is a fine estate, I understand.”

“No title.”  Mary considered.  “What do we know of the other cousin?”

“Buckingham?”  Bella stood up, taking her gloves from the vanity.  “Cash strapped.  Apparently Lady Sarah is terribly overbearing.”

“Well, I can handle her.”

“You can handle anyone,” Bella agreed, “but the estate is in trouble.  Horrible trouble.  Owestry says Buckingham is going to America to find a Dollar Heiress.”

“Like Mama,” Mary sighed.

“Yes, like Lady Grantham,” Bella agreed.  “You’re better off with Darcy.  He clearly likes you.  I heard he sent that Bennet woman back to Hertfordshire.”

“He did,” Mary agreed, standing.  “That says something.”  She considered.  “Something indeed.”

“What about Cousin Matthew?”

“What about him?”  Mary looked at Bella with wide dark eyes.

“If that’s how you feel about it.”

“That’s exactly how I feel about it.  He’s nobody and nothing to me.”

“He’s inheriting Downton Abbey.”

“He can marry Edith.”

Bella scoffed.  “You want Edith to be Countess of Grantham?”

“She’ll never catch him,” Mary assured her.  “Edith will end an old maid.”  She opened the door and Bella walked through. 

“Edith might surprise us both,” Bella suggested.

“Edith?  Really?”  Mary glanced at her.  And with that, the cousins, both tall and dark, left.  Mary had a husband to catch.

The End.